Content with Complication
by s12Becca
Summary: After 6 months in the BAU, Rachel is at home. The Unit is her family. But what happens when tempers flare, emotions get involved, and a team member messes up? Can the team still be successful with two agents down? Reid/OC


**One**

He'd braved graduation from a public high school at age 12.

He'd braved a drug addiction, which afterwards led to a year of braving NA meetings.

He'd braved a strain of Anthrax that had once killed nearly 30 people.

He'd braved _other_ bullets before.

"C'mon Spencer hang in there," I told him, my red hair rocking back and forth as the ambulance rushed towards its home. His lanky hand was cupped between my two small, freckled ones, and his eyes, though they occasionally met mine, never actually saw me. His eyelids dropped while his head bobbed from side to side, in sync with my hair. I couldn't believe I'd let this happen. "I'm so sorry," I told him again; it must have been the 30th time in ten minutes. One of the emergency response team members looked at me worriedly as the beeping related to his heart beat began to slow.

"Ma'am you're going to have to sit back," he told me, prying my hands away from Reid's. I instantly began crying as he stepped between me and my partner, forming his hands into a fist and putting them over his chest to perform CPR. It wasn't good.

"Drive faster!" I screamed to the driver, who was already pushing the speed limit. The crying of the sirens seemed to get louder as he stepped on the gas petal, and for a moment, time stood still before Reid's heart rate began to quicken to a normal pace. I wiped the excess tear from my left eye with relief, the man resumed his spot near the entry wound and I took my partner's hand once more.

"Ma'am," another member of the team spoke up, looking at me. I hesitated to tear my eyes away from Reid as I looked at him. He adjusted so that he sat next to me, looking at my eyes. Or rather, examining them. "You're going to need treatment, too," he told me, though I couldn't quite hear what he was saying now. There was a loud ringing in my ears, and he took my shoulders as I began to tremble violently.

"I," I started, my words stumbling over each other to escape my lips. It was aphasia kicking in, and I closed my eyes shut tightly for a moment; my vision was growing more blurry. "I'm fi—fi—" He shook his head.

"It's alright, agent. You don't have to speak anymore. Just let me look at you." I did as I was told, though my trembling didn't stop; if anything I began shaking harder, my forearm thumping in the same rhythm.

"Do—don't help me, help him," I breathed. I felt the entire car slow; we were reaching the hospital.

I never got to watch us go inside.

_We were back in the suburban house in Virginia, near the coast. The sea was salty, I could smell it in the air, and my hands were shaking. _

_ "Just put the gun down," Spencer told him. Then I thought of something. This suspect wasn't looking for orders; he wanted recognition._

_ "Reid," I sighed, putting my gun down._

_ "Rachel what are you doing?" he asked in a concerned tone. I gave him a 'just play along look' and threw my hands up in surrender, setting the gun down on the ground and kicking it towards him. "Rachel!" he yelled._

_ "You don't deserve to be degraded like this," I told a Mr. Matt Rugger. Our profile of the person who'd been committing the local mercy killings had led us straight to him with a gun pointed at his latest victim, who had terminal cancer. "Everyone knows that you saved those people. They needed to be put out of their misery." Spencer stayed quiet as my soft voice carried itself towards a now frozen unsub's ears. Was it working? "We shouldn't have to point a gun at you, we should be thanking you, for giving those people salvation." Mercy killers were almost always religious. Apparently this one wasn't, because he twitched at the sound of my last word. I tried to backtrack. "They needed to be given peace, and you were the only person with enough balls to do that."_

_ Everything was drawn out. I took a small step forward, breathing hard, the sweat rolling down my face and sticking my hair to my skin. I could hear his breathing, too, and Spencer's, even the forced uneven breathing of the cancer victim, Mary, who had been lain gently on her death bed. I took another step, hoping, praying that whatever I was doing was working._

_ "Just put the gun down. You don't have to kill anymore." What I hadn't considered, though, in my risky attempts to save everyone's lives, was that he also had a very intense case of OCD._

_ "I have to," he growled at me through gritted teeth. "I have to kill tonight."_

_ "Or what, Matthew? What's going to happen?" I paused. I was questioning the very ritual with which he lived by. He glared at me, and I took another small step forward. Wrong move. He released the safety on the gun; the small clicking sound it made hurt my ears, and I dove for him. My small arms managed to push the aim of the gun from Mary to Spencer, and as it went off, I felt the wind against my arms and gun powder on my sweaty face. _

_ Reid's cry rang through my mind, and everything was in slow motion again. Somehow, some way, he managed to get another shot in. The bullet came to rest in my arm, and instead of trying to struggle with a grown man, I dove for my own gun at his feet. Bringing it up, I fired. There was a buzzing that filled my ears as I watched the life leave the man; I could hear my round shoot into his chest cavity. _

_ I let out a sob. How long had I been crying? Everything was blurry, and I managed to navigate a shaky hand to my pocket and pull out my radio. Pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled over to Reid, who'd been shot in the leg. _

_ "Spence," I told him, dropping to my knees and ripping a part off from my own shirt to put pressure on his wound. I pushed with the wrong hand, and it burned. "Hold this here," I told him, wrapping it all the way around his skinny leg and attempting to press the button on the device._

_ "We have an agent down," I told them; whatever previous knowledge I had of police codes over radio, I wasn't thinking about. "A-And the unsub is unarmed." _

_ As if on cue, I heard a gun shot from behind me. The man wasn't done yet. He needed to complete his last act of mercy before he could die._

With gunshots screaming through my mind, I woke up to my boss pacing near the foot of my bed.

"Hotchner," I screeched, sitting up quickly; I immediately wished I hadn't. Cold, gray wires ripped from my skin on my arms and chest, burning. Gauze on my arm gave way to the sudden movement, tearing away from the flesh. I took in a deep breath, determined not to lay back down. He had to know I didn't mean for it to happen.

"Hotch, listen. It was my fault, but I didn't mean-"

"Rachel," he mumbled to stop me, in that authoritative tone that his voice normally took. Now, however, it seemed a little watered down and caring. Gentle. It was the father in him hinting towards the surface of the brooded mask he usually wore. I couldn't let him stop me though. I had to make him understand my side of things.

"The unsub," I continued worriedly, afraid he wasn't going to let me speak. I was wrong about that though. He sat in silence, allowing me to continue. "I didn't want him to die. He just needed help. I tried to talk him down, I dropped my gun, but he was too smart, I wasn't thinking about the profile. I tried taking him down before he could kill the victim, but he just shot at Reid." I was crying again, and I used my uninjured arm to wipe a salty tear from my mouth. It tasted like the air in the house, and I attempted to focus on retelling the story rather than get caught up in it. "Then somehow he shot again, and it hit me in the arm. I fell and grabbed my gun. I shot him... I shot him Hotch."

"I know," was all he said, imploring me to continue.

"And then I went to help Reid but I heard another shot from behind me. I shouldn't have been stupid. I should have secured all the weapons first I'm so sorry. Is Reid okay?" I was talking at a million miles an hour, and when I stopped to take a breath, he took advantage of the momentary silence.

"Reid's fine."

"Am I fired?"

"No."

I let out a breath. Those were two major reliefs.

Two nurses rushed in to adjust my wires and push me back into a resting position. I sighed. I was stubborn, and I wanted to sit upright, but they eventually convinced me otherwise. How, I didn't know.

"She'll need more morphine, as well," Hotchner told one of them, and they connected another tube.

"No," I started, but it was already dripping into my system. Morphine was going to put me to sleep, and in my sleep I had nightmares. At this point, I was more scared of being inside my own head than in the outside world of reality. Soon, I drifted off, hand in hand with my fears.

_I was looking down at Mary. She looked so peaceful, laying there with her hands folded neatly atop her stomach. I reached over felt for a pulse; I found one. Reaching for my radio again, I fumbled with the button. _

_ "Hurry!" I yelled into it. _

_ "Copy. Responders are on their way," a voice responded._

_ "We have a woman with a gun shot to the chest, she's got a minor p-" I stopped, having to take a breath. I hadn't realized how much blood had seeped through my sweater from my arm. I dropped to my knees. "She's got a pulse," I managed to spit out before dropping the hand held device to grab onto a sturdy wooden bedside table. I used it to help me stand, and I stumbled all the way back across the room to Reid to help him put pressure on his wound. His eyes were going into the back of his head. _

_ "Reid!" I screamed, taking his face in my hands. "Stay awake!" I slapped him, and he seemed to come round. _

_ "Ow," he mumbled, struggling to keep his grip on the ripped shirt in his hands._

_ "Sorry," I responded, putting my hands over his to try and force the blood to stop flowing. His eyes began to roll again. _

_ "Reid!" I yelled. My own screams echoed, bouncing off the walls and back into my burning ears. Where were the damn responders!?_

I woke up again. From everyone's expressions, I realized that I probably hadn't only been yelling in my head.

"Hey baby it's okay," Morgan told me from my bedside. Beside him stood Emily. I let my eyes close. I was so tired, but I couldn't fall asleep. I just couldn't.

"Where's—" I stopped, swallowing and furrowing my eyebrows. "Where's Reid, is he okay?"

"He's fine," Emily told me, walking over to my other side. "Don't worry. You're going to be okay, too."

"Where's..." I felt like I couldn't get my words out. "Where's Mary? Is _she_ okay?" There was a pause, an elongated pause that filled the whole room with tension. Finally, through my blurred vision, I saw Derek nod to Emily.

"She's just fine."

The heavy silence that followed told me otherwise.

I let out a sob, knowing that it was my fault she was dead. I hadn't secured the guns at the scene. Emily took my hand.

"When do I get outta here?" I asked, ignoring the burning in my arm.

"They removed the bullet that went into your arm; it fractured your bone and tore the muscle. They're keeping you another night, then you'll be released."

"Another? How long have I been here?" I questioned, my eyes suddenly feeling light sensitive.

"The morphine's kept you here for two nights already," she replied.

"Two nights? Christ, and the whole team's still here?"

"JJ, Rossi and Hotch went back to the BAU," Morgan explained.

"You guys stayed here?" I asked.

"We volunteered to take you guys home. After all, you guys don't exactly have a next of kin."

With all my questions answered, I allowed myself to drift back into sleep, anxious to see Reid again.


End file.
